Just a Crumb
by Qui-ti
Summary: Maybe Spike got his crumb after all... [Post Crush]


A/N: Just thought of this today and felt like posting. :) Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

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_**Just a Crumb

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_We have something, Buffy. It's not pretty, but it's real, and there's nothing either one of us can do about it._

"Ugh!" I slam my hands down on the bed and Mr. Gordo, lying unsuspectingly on the covers, jumps three feet into the air, the mattress springs emitting a loud squeak of protest. "Stupid vampire," I mutter mutinously, the anger coiling within me craving to be released in any way possible.

To have him speak those words in that soft, open voice; to see an emotion other than pure revulsion playing on his oh-so-open face as he looked into my eyes; to feel his cold, dead hands on my skin in a touch meaning to do more than inflict pain… It ignites a fire within my body that I can't quench with simple violence, that is slowly spiraling out of control and threatening to consume me whole.

I need to do something, anything to make this go away, to get him out of my life for _good_. There's no way I can talk to him, look at him again after seeing that look in his eyes… That sick, obsessed look I'd seen him give to Drusilla the first time I saw him. To be on the receiving end of that gaze was something I never expected, and it left me feeling sick to my stomach. I need to get the image of his eyes out of my head, and I have no idea how… until I spot the small jewelry box sitting on the messy counter of my jewelry box.

Opening the lid, I move the mass of mismatched earrings onto the desk and lift the heavy, silver ring from within its resting place, the menacing skull glaring at me with that same look in his eyes. I turn away, grasping my hand firmly around the ring, some of the frustration inside of me releasing with the simple gesture. After I get rid of this, I'll head to a cemetery—any one but Restfield—and vent the rest of it. It helped after Angel left, that long summer I spent questioning the worth of my life while pummeling in the faces of unsuspecting vampires.

An image of pummeling a certain vampire's face in flashes into my mind, and I growl with anger, wanting nothing but my _thoughts_ in my head, and not his infuriating face. I need to get out of here, and quickly. I move out of my room and check to see that my Mom and Dawn are sleeping, then slip out the back door, making my way through the streets of Sunnydale, not really heading anywhere in particular. There's something about being the Slayer that makes a girl wander aimlessly, and conveniently into the path of ignorant evil. The two fledgling vamps I find in an alley are dust before they even realize who I am, and before I start to make my way back to the semi-lit street, I stop, frozen in place by the weight of the ring I still hold in my hand.

_Still_ holding it.

_Why?_

The question is simple enough—why couldn't I have just thrown it through my window, or into the first dumpster I saw, or _anywhere_ else? I can't stand to have it in my hand anymore; it burns me, along with the fiery gaze that he gave me earlier tonight. The conflagration in my body is growing, and I can't stand it anymore. Willing my fingers apart, the metal object drops to the ground with a strangely loud sound.

The release I expect to feel never comes.

The infuriating feelings are replaced by a chilling emptiness, the pain of the void sending to my knees weakly, a cry escaping my throat; I stare at the ring, the skull willing me to pick it up, to place it back into my hand and to nestle it safely once more in my jewelry box. It's ridiculous to feel this way; I walked away from Angel's Claddagh and didn't look back, but now I am stilled by the loss of this maddening reminder of a vampire's sick obsession with me. An obsession I have to distance myself from as quickly as possible.

_Why?_

The questioning voice within me returns again, egging on the swirling mass of emotion within me. The answer is obvious, of course, and I think it ridiculous that I even question it. But then a part of me sees the look in the vampire's eyes again, and views it not through hateful eyes, but through the eyes of the insecure, needy girl that was left to wake up alone after her first night of passion.

I can't stand to admit it to myself, but there's something within his twisted gaze that speaks true affection, desire, want—and love. There is love.

And I can't stand to walk away from his like Angel did to mine.

I bend down, slowly, and retrieve the ring from its unceremonious place on the ground, then turn and walk towards the exit of the alley slowly. The light from the lamps on the street leaves a yellow ring on the ground just where the street begins, and just before I step into it, I feel something.

The tingling on the back of my neck.

A rather _familiar_ tingling on the back of my neck.

Turning around once, I stare into the shadowy darkness, knowing instinctively that he is there but unafraid of his presence. He knows that I sense him, and is undoubtedly fearing me more than I am to him, but I simply stare, unmoving from the shadows for what feels like an eternity.

Even though I can't see him, I can feel him—and I feel that something is there.

Before I know it, my lips curl into a smile and I squeeze the ring in my hand gently, meaning to step into the light but stilling myself as I feel the sudden desire to acknowledge his presence, if not the fact that what he felt, I feel too. So I speak, the words unimportant but knowing that their meaning will not be lost on him.

"Good night, Spike."


End file.
